Our Lady of Sorrows

He stretched in his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was used to awaking up far earlier than his for Mass at school, and though his internal clock had started to get the memo that he didn't need to be up at five every morning, he still wondered when it would return to a normal sleeping pattern.

He laid in bed for a while, watching the little streaks of light on his ceiling from where his drawn curtains didn't cover, the rest of his room basically still blanketed in darkness. He liked it dark, it calmed him, helped him sleep. He'd always been something of a light sleeper, and back when he used to share a room with Mikey, his younger brother's tossing or snoring would always wake him up.

He was happy he didn't have to share a room anymore, he knew it was a sin to be greedy and that he should be happy with what he received. But, sleeping with a little brother for years and then sharing a dorm at school certainly made him cherish the experience that having his own room now brought.

There was never any privacy in sharing a room, no time to be alone or even think. And forget about masturbation, that was as good as dead. No, he was relishing having his own room now, really living in the experience. He could only imagine what it would be like once he got his own place, he couldn't wait for that experience either.

He rolled over onto his back, throwing an arm over his face and took a deep breath. He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to start his day. No, he just wanted to stay right where he was, immersed in blankets and the dark, coldness of his bedroom. He could stay right here all day, if the lord allowed it, and he would be happy.

His quiet moment of serenity was cut short by his door opening and someone trotting down the stairs to his basement bedroom. He could tell who it was instantly by the loud tromping, his mother sneaked, his father just yelled from the doorway, which left Mikey – who tromped.

“Oh, Gee.” His brother sang in a sing-song-y voice before jumping onto his bed and on him. “Get up, Gee.”

“Oomph.” He groaned as Mikey's lanky frame landed on his abdomen, pushing out all the air in his lungs. “Get off me, you shit.”

“That's not very pious of you.” Mikey said saucily, continuing to lounge on Gerard.

“Fuck off.”

“Were you this grouchy at school? How did the priests ever put up with you?”

Gerard sat up, ignoring Mikey's joking tone and pushed his brother off of him and onto the other side of the bed. He stretched forward, popping his back and rolling his shoulders. He kept the blanket tucked around his waist, his brother's legs still dangling over his own.

“God only knows.”

Mikey snickered at Gerard's joke. He liked that his older brother was still the same, he liked that Seminary school hadn't changed Gerard. He was just as sarcastic and rude as ever, if only the church knew. His brother was charming when he wanted to be, and he really was a good guy, but when he was home or around the select few, he was a raunchy dickhead and Mikey loved it.

Growing up in their home, in the church like they had, had the ability to either ruin them or simply make them stronger. Gerard hadn't always wanted to follow in their father's footsteps, but being the oldest, he did what he was told. They believed, Gerard believed and was good in his faith, but Mikey knew that going to Seminary and becoming a Minister was not something his brother had always wanted. He liked to sing, he wrote songs and stories all the time. He had originally wanted to go to college for art, to be a comic book artist. That had been nipped in the bud real quick.

Their parents loved them, unconditionally, and believed in all the wonderful gifts the Lord had given their sons. If Gerard had truly wanted to attend public school and then college for art, their parents would've let him. But, the thing with his older brother was that he didn't like to let people down. Gerard knew how much their father wanted the church to be run by another Way, just as their Grandfather had run it before him. So, Gerard had obliged – just as he always did.

Mikey felt bad for him, he knew this wasn't truly what Gerard wanted deep down, but he would never say anything to him. Gerard would only get defensive about it.

But, they hadn't changed him. Their parents, the church, their faith. It hadn't changed him. He was still grouchy and crass, brooding and annoyed. He was just really good at hiding it. Mikey wished he wouldn't. He liked Gerard for who he was, for who their shared friends knew him to be. Not this charming, preacher-boy that the congregation knew.

“You know, the guys are just waiting for the phone call.” Gerard looked at his younger brother, who just looked so big all of a sudden. When had that happened? “Frank managed to find a gig in the city, way outside of Jersey, if you're interested.”

Mikey knew Gerard wouldn't chance being seen by their parents or anyone from the church – they had an image to protect. But, maybe he would take the bait. It'd been a while since Gerard preformed, it looked like he needed it. It must be hard to be that charming all the time, Mikey knew he would never be able to do it.

Gerard thought it over for a moment, he hadn't gotten a chance to be in a band practice since he returned home from school and it was eating away at him. They had started the band back in middle school, Mikey had only been eleven when he first picked up a bass, and Gerard had been fourteen and already had notebooks filled with lyrics. They never went anywhere with it and only played the barely appropriate songs for their parents when they sat in on their band practices, but that never stopped the five of them from rehearsing. For what, Gerard was never certain.

He nodded to Mikey, running a hand through his long hair, pushing it out of his face. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He looked over to him, nodding at his younger brother. “Let's set up a practice and see where we're at, and then... fuck it, why not.”

The smile Mikey gave him was worth it, that billion mega watt smile. Gerard hadn't seen it much as of late and it was nice to see his brother happy again. He knew Mikey was depressed, he had always been depressed, and no one quite understood. Gerard did though, he understood his brother more than he let on, more than anyone else knew. He'd be there for Mikey, whatever he needed, always.

“Alright! I'll call Frank and let him know.” Mikey pushed himself off Gerard and stood from the bed. “Text Ray one of these days, you're bestest friend has missed you so.”

Gerard just gave him the finger, but knowing that he was a shitty friend for not hanging out with Ray as soon as he'd gotten home. “You're just jealous because your not my bestest friend anymore.”

Mikey pulled a face, “Am not, dickface.” And leaned forward to tweak Gerard's nipple, like the use to do when they were kids.

Gerard pushed Mikey away, “Ow, shithead.” He reached for Mikey to strike in retaliation, but made no move to get off of the bed. “Come here, fucker.”

Mikey just furrowed his brows, looking over his brother who was reaching for him from his spot on the bed. Gerard was shirtless, his hair a complete mess, and the blankets were tucked around his waist. Mikey pulled a disgusted face, “Gee, are you naked right now?”

Gerard just rolled his eyes, “Yeah, why?”

“Gross, dude. Warn me next time!”

“Don't jump on my bed then.”

Mikey made a grossed out noise and shook his head, “Why are you even naked?
Gerard just quirked a brow, “Uh, because it's my room and I can do whatever the fuck I want?”

“Nasty.”

With that, Mikey turned on his heel and walked up the stairs to the first floor, throwing a disgusted look over his shoulder at Gerard and shaking his head. He didn't bother moving until the door was shut and he was sure no one was going to come barging down. He ran his hands over his face, annoyed that Mikey interrupted his valued alone time, but grateful that the decision to get up was made.

He stood from the bed and walked into his bathroom, jumping in the shower. He sang some random songs that they use to play in band practice, singing out the melody for a new song he had been working on, even a hymn from church. Anything to get his vocals warm, it had been too long since he sang, he was looking forward to it.

He jumped out of the shower and pulled on some clothes, he'd actually get dressed for church later, for now he bounded up the stairs in a black Smiths shirt and some jeans. He couldn't even remember the last time he dressed casually outside of his house, probably eighth grade.

Mikey was seated at the bar in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal and finishing last minute homework. He knew his father was already gone, already down at the church, sitting in his office and going over paperwork. His mother was in the kitchen making lunch that she'd bring down to him later, on her own lunch break from where she worked in the Mayor's office downtown.

His parents were nauseatingly happy, it almost made him glad he was celibate – who the fuck was he kidding, no one was glad about that. They were high school sweethearts that married young and started a family in the church his Grandfather had built, they were a fucking poster for Christianity. But, they were lovely people who were kind hearted and nonjudgemental, which was more than he could say for most.

He sat down in the chair next to Mikey, rubbing his face again, trying to wake himself up more. He had never been much of a morning person – odd seeing as how he was up for mass every morning – but his whole life he had hated mornings, grouchy until at least noon. He could put on that smiley facade for church, but he was a grump and his whole family knew it.

His mother turned towards the bar where they were seated, putting a cup of coffee down in front of him. He gave her an appreciative look as she leaned against the bar. "Going down to the church today?"

He nodded, "For the after school session, mostly."

Mikey snickered, "Have fun babysitting."

That's basically all it was, glorified babysitting while also kind of preaching about The Lord and the bible to kids that weren't listening anyway. He pinched the underside of Mikey's arm, causing him to yelp. His mother just sent him a look down her nose, he ignored it.

"Have fun at school."

Mikey hated high school, but he was fifteen, so Gerard wasn't surprised that his brother loathed it. Mikey sent him a piercing gaze and tried to discreetly flip him off without their mom noticing.

"Gerard Arthur, Michael James, enough." His mother scolded. He just lifted a brow and sipped at his coffee, his hair in his face. She shook her head, "You need a haircut."

He sent her a look, ignoring Mikey's snickering. "No, I don't."

She just sighed, but relented. "So," She started a new topic to avoid the fight about his hair. "I saw you speaking to the Addams girl yesterday, that was kind of you. She always looks so lonely."

"Well, I thought it was the right thing to do. I offered her a position as my helper for the after school program, she just looked like she needed it."

He didn't say that she had intrigued him for a long time now, that he grasped her loneliness and her quiet nature. He didn't say that something in him connected with the younger girl in the same way he connected with Mikey and his pain. He didn't say any of that. Instead he just smiled as his mother gushed.

"I'm just so proud of the lovely young men you two are becoming, so thoughtful and kind."

Mikey tried not to roll his eyes as he smile at their mom, taking that as his cue to leave. He stood from the bar, putting his dishes in the sink and grabbed his backpack from the floor. He was dressed in dark skinny jeans and a band t-shirt that used to be Gerard's, his hair matted to his face, his glasses perched on his nose. He envied Mikey and the freedom he had.

“Later.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Mike.”

Gerard watched as Mikey made his way out the door, knowing that he'd meet up with Frank on the school bus and talk about band practices and shows and how uncool his church-y older brother was. He hated that, that's what he was. Hated that he could be described as church-y. His younger self would be scowling and punching walls if someone said that to him back then.

He turned back and saw the look his mother was giving him, that one with the worried eyes and the furrowed brows. He sighed. “Stop giving me that look.”

“It's just... is everything alright?”

He really didn't want to have this conversation with her, or at all. He had made a decision, he had followed his parents wishes, he really wasn't even all that pissed off about it. He believed in his faith, he followed the bible and listened to the sermons. A part of him was proud of himself for accomplishing what he had, for what he would do with his life. But, it was moments of weakness like these, when his mother, his brother, someone, looked at him with those worried eyes and made him want to rethink all he'd promised. He hated it. He was doing what they wanted and a part of him was happy about it, that should be enough.

“It's fine, Mom. I'm fine. Just... stop asking.”

He stood from the bar, grabbing his coffee and retreating back down to his room. He knew that by doing that, it only made her all the more suspicious of his actions, but he really didn't care. He was tired of doing things that everyone expected of and from him – which was why he was sure as hell going to do that gig with the band. He was just... tired.

He stomped down the stairs and went to sit at his desk, deciding he had nothing better to do until two o'clock, he started to draw. Draw what, he didn't know, but it sure as hell wasn't holy.

Notes

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